Devil at My Heels - Louis Zamperini [53]
The drastic change in diet caused a line to appear across our fingernails and toenails, darker in front, lighter behind, marking the moment like a personal calendar. After a few days we even stopped going to the bathroom. At first we weren’t sure why, but eventually we just accepted it—and occasionally made a joke or two.
“Hey, Phil,” I said one afternoon. “Do you remember the time I pulled that laxative trick on you for stealing my gum?”
“I sure do,” he laughed. “Let me hear it again.”
We both knew the story, but it helped to pass the time.
“Yeah. Well, I always chew gum when I fly because it makes my ears pop. I like Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit; it has kind of a mellow flavor. But every time we’d get ready to take off you guys would go, ‘Oh, hi, Zamp,’ and, flashing big smiles, pull the gum out of my pocket for yourselves. After a while I thought you ought to buy your own. But you and Cup wouldn’t do it. Next thing I knew you were taking two sticks each, leaving me with one. I switched to P-K gum, figuring you wouldn’t like it, but you did.
“Finally I thought, Those son of a guns. I’m not only going to get even and stop this nonsense, but teach them a lesson in morals.
“In college we used to chew Feenamint gum as a laxative. On the package it gave the potency—three pieces was listed as harsh. Of course, I couldn’t just put a pack of that in my shirt pocket or you’d get suspicious. So I got some Feenamint and put it in the P-K wrappers. Feenamint was a little larger than P-K, so it wouldn’t go in flat; I had to put each piece in at an angle. Then I put it in my pocket and waited. When you helped yourself to my gum I just acted angry and walked away.”
“I thought you were,” said Phil.
“About four hours later, we were on a mission that took us eight hundred miles out. Usually, when we had to relieve ourselves on the plane we used a little portable toilet contraption into which we inserted a waterproof bag. Then we tied the top and tossed it out the window. I remember you went back and did your business. Then Cup…”
“And Mitchell said, ‘What did you guys eat for lunch?’” Phil added.
“Right. And then the gum hit and you rushed back again.”
“And I used the last bag,” said Phil.
“Then it hit Cupernell again.”
“And there were no bags.”
We both laughed so hard we could hardly talk. When I caught my breath I said, “It hit Cup so hard he had no time to waste. He got the four gunners and screamed, ‘Hold me! Hold me!’ Then he hung his butt through the waist window and let go, creating an abstract mural along the fuselage!”
“When we got back we still didn’t know what had happened,” said Phil.
“The ground crew chief said, ‘What the hell is that?’ I said it was an emergency camouflage job. Later, I admitted my prank but said I had no regrets except that we weren’t flying over enemy territory when it happened.”
“But then Cup said, ‘After all those juicy steaks at P.Y. Chong’s, I needed a good cleaning out!’” said Phil.
“And I said, ‘In that case you owe me twenty cents for the Feenamint.’”
I AWOKE TO find the sun in my eyes. Phil was already up, Mac stirring.
“What time is it?” I asked. “There’s the sun,” said Phil, pointing to it hovering not far above the horizon.
“Looks like eight o’clock.”
“What’s for breakfast?” Phil asked.
“How about bacon and eggs?” I replied. “Or ham? Toast, jam. Orange juice.”
“Didn’t we just have that?” Mac mumbled.
“Probably,” I said. I tried to vary the menu, but it was hard to keep track. “We could have pancakes instead. My mother had a great recipe. Biscuits and fresh fruit, too.”
“Not for